


Unchanged Eyes

by Write_No_Evil



Series: Mad Eyes. Green Eyes. [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Eternal (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Amnesia Bruce, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Resurrected Jason Todd, brother bonding, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_No_Evil/pseuds/Write_No_Evil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce's memories are gone and he doesn't remember his sons that live with him; Damian, Tim and Dick. Jason finds himself offering them a place at his safe house. In that time he bonds slightly with the youngest Wayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unchanged Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Please read:  
> Okay so a few things: in this story Damian is resurrected by the Lazarus Pit and not how he is in canon. Also the Lazarus Pit just brought him back (didn't modify any of him such as eye colour or hair colour but if we're going to stick slightly to canon, it gave him superpowers).

It had been decided early on that they wouldn't try to trigger Bruce's memories of his past back, allowing him to have a life that wasn't about death and vengeance. To have a normal life. Without his sons. He knew it wasn't Bruce's idea but it still made Jason hate him even more. If there was one thing Jason was, it was loyal. Especially to those he deemed his friends and family. He would never turn his back on his family. Granted there had been a time he had tried to kill Tim, on several times, but Jason had finally began to let go of his anger, to Tim at least. It wasn't Tim's fault he died. As he began to lose his anger, he soon found out Tim, and to a lesser extent, Damian were alright people. They understood bits of what he had gone through, more on being Robin than being horriblely beaten up at a young age, blown up and then being revived only to find out your mentor, the man who you thought of as your father, had not only failed to avenge you, he had replaced you. As if you were expendable. Jason shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts out of his mind. He wasn't going back down there.

He had been slightly surprised Bruce had forgotten everything, having been content in staying out of their way. That had been the reason he had toured the world, and sometimes parts of the universe, with Roy and Starfire and hadn't really tried to stay in contact with them. Still the idea of Bruce not knowing anything about them, and especially that he was Batman was weird. The idea of letting him not remember started with Alfred just so he could see his almost surrogate son live a normal life and the others had just accepted it, with some reluctance and pain (especially from Damian). Even now Jason could see the pain the boy was in. He hadn't really felt part of the family, similarly to Jason, and he hadn't connected well with his father. It had taken a while, including him dying, for them to grow close and when he comes back after a break his father doesn't even know him.

The reason why Damian and Tim were in his safe house/apartment? Pretty simple, Bruce, Jason still refused to acknowledge Bruce as his father, didn't want strangers to live in his house. Though the Wayne Manor was so big, Jason thought they could all live there and Bruce would never know, Tim and Damian had basically been thrown out and had had no where to go until Jason had offered them a place. He knew that Damian was too young to live on his own, no matter how much he protested, and Tim was barely sixteen and couldn't look after himself in a healthy way. It helped that he was the only one old enough to legally own an apartment. Truthfully, he would have gone on his merry way, not really caring about this new event if he hadn't remembered his two younger almost brothers. Bruce had forgotten about them but he'll be damned if he would. He knew the pains of having an absent father and feeling banished from his home (both from Wayne Manor and the times when his own father would kick him out of his home) and wasn't going to let them suffer as well. 

It didn't surprise Jason that it was Dick who had noticed his lack of mirror in the bathroom. Why was he in his apartment? Jason wasn't so sure. He didn't know why Dick had wormed himself into his relatively small apartment, he was old enough to rent an apartment on his own. Jason believed it to be something to do with the fact that the world still believed he was dead, like it believed he was dead.

Of course it would be Dick. Tim had barely moved from where he had placed himself on the one man sofa two days ago and Jason was pretty sure the only time he had seen his face was when he had looked into the black turned off screen of his laptop or phone. Damian, who had been in the bathroom a few times, wasn't the type to admire his reflection. Jason knew this, he had been trained by the League of Assassins for a while. They taught you how to kill, not to admire yourself. Jason couldn't bear to look himself in the mirror, and it was his apartment so he already knew he didn't have a mirror. Even if Jason didn't know how much Dick liked to look at his reflection, statistically he was the only one left.

"Jay why don't you have a mirror in your bathroom?" Dick asked as he walked out of the bathroom, a frown on his face. Jason laid on the sofa, his legs crossed at the ankles and his feet on the cushion, his neck turned slightly to the left so he could see the TV, his body language open. He had been pretty relaxed around them till that question. He tensed and looked at Dick, a glare beginning to form.

"Maybe because not all of us like our reflection," he spat it out slightly too violently than he had meant to.

"Jay I didn't-"

"Don't." He cut him off, the palm of his right hand, which had been resting on the sofa top, turned towards Dick, in a stopping gesture. This time he managed to move his head quickly enough that he didn't see the sadness and regret in Dick's blue eyes. His eyes used to be a similar. He stopped that train of thought before it could even begin and instead looked back at the TV, watching the program that was been aired.

In his peripheral vision he saw Tim peek up from behind the laptop he had been so occupied with and look at him. He wasn't fast enough to look away and managed to see the pity in Tim's eyes and the way worry laced his face. Angrily he turned to look ahead, down the corridor where Dick had emerged a few moments before. He glared down ir and from the corner of his eyes he saw Damian look at him. The smugness in the way he trailed his eyes down Jason's body, as if to say that he wasn't so weak as to be brutally murdered, and the way his eyes narrowed in a mocking way, as if Jason wasn't up to his standards, had Jason shoving himself up from the where he laid and stomping over to the door, grabbing a gun that laid on the kitchen counter.

His fingers gripped the handle tight, almost too tight, and he swung it open, flicking his wrist to close it. The door slammed shut with a loud bang and Jason flinched. He pretended it was a wince, ordered himself to berate himself, that it was going to make them think something had upset him. It wasn't a flinch. He hadn't been transported back to the moment the bomb had detonated with a loud bang. Before he could start having a panic attack, he ran. He sprinted down the corridor so reason he was breathing heavily was because of the exertion. He ran so that none of the other males would follow him. He ran to get the anger and fear out of his system. He didn't know why seeing Damian look at him with such disdain had him feeling that way. Maybe it was because it was the first time he had seen him do it.

Had he used the skills that the great detective had given him, he would have seen concern in Damian's eyes. He would have seen the way his fingernail pressed into his palm as he dealt with the unfamiliar emotion, the way his eyes narrowed as he tried to place it. He would have observed the way his eyes flicked to all his scars that he had got from the Joker, and other people. Damian, just like everyone else in the Bat family, had read his autopsy report, seen the pictures of his broken, bruised and battered body. Damian had even seen them in person; when Jason had taken off his signature jacket to show a tank top underneath, with the lighter scars peaking out of the fabric of his clothes, when Jason had his top off for a few seconds to do something, to wash the sweat off or to change into a different top. But Jason didn't use those skills, he just ran.

* * *

An hour later and the sun had set. Jason walked back to his apartment and opened the door. He never locked it, the sound of the lock clicking would alert any intruders inside that he was about to enter. He glanced about, noting with surprise that Tim wasn't where he had been perched for the last few days. Damian sat in the middle of what Jason called the living room, in front of the TV. His posture was stiff, his back straight and his legs crossed with his arms placed on his thighs. Jason knew it was a positition of meditation. He quietened down so as not to disturb the younger boy.

"Grayson and Drake have left to get some food," Damian informed him, not opening his eyes. Jason nodded even though Damian wouldn't see it and sat down on the sofa in front of the boy. He used this time to study the boy. He had died and been resurrected by the Lazarus Pit, like his grandfather had done many times. His eyes flickered from the top of his hair, where it was a black, the colour of his father's, and just black. His eyes, though closed, were still the same green that he had inherited from Talia and Jason knew they didn't glow. It wasn't fair. Damian was plunged in the pit and he came out almost exactly the same as he went in, the only difference- alive and with superpowers. Unlike Jason, whose eyes colour and a part of his hair changed. His dip into the water had also left him slightly insane. But Damian? He was perfectly normal. In some sick, twisted way, it made sense. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne, he had never gone hungry. Never had to suck on a cancer inducing stick so he could cope with the hunger pains. He knew his place in the world. Damian was an elite, he deserved to be treated like one. Jason was just a street rat. He didn't deserve anything. He should just take what he got.

"You are staring," Damian stated, eyes opening. They immediately zoned into the gun that was dangling loosely in Jason's hands, an unspoken question in them.

"I didn't kill anyone if that's whatcha ya wonderin'. Three to get their attention, two to intimidate and four to injure," Jason told him, his accent slipping in. It surprised him he was comfortable to do that with Damian. But he had known the child slightly whilst he had been with the League of Assassins.

"Do you still... Kill?" Damian asked hesitantly. Maybe that was why he was so comfortable with him, they both used to kill. They understood each other in a way that none of the others could.

"Only when I have ta," Jason told him.

"The Pit.. changed you," Damian chose his words carefully. Jason just snorted.

"Physically and mentally. I got these." He gestured to his eyes and patch of white hair.

"They are the colour of the Pit," Damian spoke quietly. Jason, Damian and Bruce where the only ones who had seen the Lazarus Pit and knew its colour. Bruce had never seen Jason's eyes, Jason always wore at the very least his domino mask, to hide his eyes. Bruce would know the moment he saw them. Jason wasn't sure why he hid them from Bruce, maybe to dramatically reveal them when it got bad between them again. Though now it may never happen. Bruce didn't know him and may never will.

"I am... I am..." Damian's eyes fell as he struggled to get find the words.

"It's okay little one." Jason spoke the words in Arabic. Damian relaxed slightly, his shoulders slumping a milimetre. Jason's perceptive eyes caught on the action and he felt a bit happy that Damian was comfortable in his presence enough to drop his guard slightly.

They stayed like that, in a silence that wasn't awkward. Damian went back to meditating and Jason got lost in his thoughts, the presence of someone else enough to drive the memories away. Soon the door opened and in walked Tim and Dick, bags in their hands as they chattered to each other. Jason rose, relying on instinct as his hands came up at the same time to point the gun at them. They stilled, looking at him. Dick raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"Sorry, reflex," Jason mumbled, putting the gun down. The two in the door way relaxed and shuffled into the kitchen and began to put the food away. Damian stood up, knowing that there wouldn't be any more silence for him to meditate in and walked over to help them, only after Dick asked him to help. Dick looked at Jason, hope in his eyes. Too tired to be angry and to push them away, he walked over to help them with the excuse they would put things in the wrong places. The chattering felt naturally and for once Jason didn't feel so alone. With them around, the demons didn't dare raise their heads. Maybe, just maybe, Jason could get used to this.


End file.
